


Moving Violation

by yellowumbrellagirl



Category: Iron Man (Movies), S.H.I.E.L.D
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowumbrellagirl/pseuds/yellowumbrellagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another repost from the godsofwar archive on fanfiction.net. Happy has a close call with the State Patrol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Violation

A quality of light. That’s what someone from back East had told him. It was what had struck them most about visiting the South Western United States. The way the sky seemed immense, dwarfing even the mountains. The sky seemed to be so much deeper, more than just a flat blue or gray plane. It had a frightening depth. It made you feel like you were standing on a stone, waiting to be washed away by the universe. 

The philosophical tangent flashed through Happy’s brain at the speed of adrenaline and doubt as he saw the crystal blue sky reflected in the mirrored surface of the New Mexico State Trooper’s aviator sunglasses. The surprising bite of the cool morning air washed over him as he rolled down the window. Plastering on what he hoped was a harmless smile, he asked,

“Is there a problem officer?” 

“Yes sir, there does seem to be.” 

Happy’s big knuckled hands remained clamped at ten and two on the steering wheel. He was trying very hard not to make any sudden movements. He was relaxing so hard his back was cramping. How old was this kid? Happy mused, Not much more than 25 he figured. The name ce de Vaca was stamped into his name badge. Happy waited, smile still achingly plastered to his face and outwardly so calm he wanted to scream.

Officer ce de Vaca stared at him blankly for a moment and Happy couldn’t help but think of the Man With No Eyes from the Paul Newman movie Hud. Give the kid another 5 years and he would be one scary Motherfucker Happy thought. But for the time being he was just trying too hard.

“License and registration.”

Happy moved smoothly but slowly to comply. Ce de Vaca pondered the proffered documents.

“You do realize,” theatrical pause to recheck the name, “Mr. Hogan, that the posted speed limit here is 70.”

Happy said nothing and smiled idiotically.

“You were doing well over 100.”

Still Happy grinned like an over medicated monkey, he remained silent. 

“Is there some reason,” a pause slightly filled with authoritative doubt and creeping menace, “that you were traveling more than 30 miles over the legal speed at 7AM on a Tuesday?”

The gnome of snarky comments kicked at his brain, straining to be let loose, but Happy kept himself in check. He knew full well that the kid was waiting for a excuse laden with laughingly bad details. But Happy was, if not a brilliant man, a very sensible one. 

“I am running a bit behind schedule.” His face ached, so he stopped smiling. He could feel exhaustion slide up his spine to meet the stress headache somewhere in the neighborhood of his neck.

“I see,” ce de Vaca said as he took in the sight of the cargo van with tinted windows and a darkened interior that stretched beyond Happy’s seated bulk.  
There was a sound of something metal dropped onto the van’s floor followed by a softly uttered expletive. Happy suppressed a long suffering sigh, shut his eyes for a moment and tried to force back the throbbing that had just ratcheted up behind his right eye. He could feel the headache in his teeth, how was that possible?

In one swift move ce deVaca stepped back from the driver’s side window and placed his hand on the butt of his 9mm. His voice was steel resolve laced through with threat.

“Sir, I am going to need you to shut off your vehicle, put the keys on the dashboard and get out of the vehicle. Slowly. Hands where I can see them.”

Shit, Happy thought as he carefully complied. His knees gave painful and audible pops as he stood on the sand blown asphalt of the highway’s edge. Adrenaline flooded in hot and cold waves through his system, bringing everything into sharp focus. It was then that Happy realized that there were no other cars on the road. Oh this was turning into seven types of not good.

As happy stood with his back against the side of the van there was a metallic grinding sound followed by muffled voice that sounded as if it had piteously cried,

“…help…”

It was at this juncture in the proceedings that Officer ce de Vaca drew his service weapon. Happy didn’t blame him, in fact he obliged the young officer further by raising his hands, palms out, and standing very, very still. 

“Open the back of the van.” All professional politeness and detachment was gone from ce de Vaca’s voice.

Happy moved slowly down the side of the van with ce de Vaca a few feet behind. Happy could feel his back burn on the spot he was pretty sure the young officer planned to put a bullet if he decided to pull any shenanigans. Huh, shenanigans, Happy thought, now there was a word that Granny Hogan had really enjoyed using. Usually followed up by a good natured smack. Ah the good old days.  
They had reached the windowless rear doors of the van. As Happy reached for the handle he could feel the tension that surrounded them in this vast openness and made it feel horrifyingly claustrophobic. The sound of metal grinding on metal, followed by more swearing met their ears. Happy felt his whole body clench with exhaustion, dread, stress, and yeah a little sticky bit of fear. 

“Open the door slowly and keep your hands up.” The officer’s voice was quiet but it sliced through the quiet morning.

Happy pulled the van doors open and stepped back with his hands raised. Light flooded the gloomy interior of the vehicle to reveal…

It took a minute for ce de Vaca to truly register what he saw. The man lay flat on his back, head propped up by a wadded up towel. The black diving suit was unzipped and pulled down to his waist exposing a very muscular torso and… A flashlight? But the officers gaze swept on. His legs were bare, it appeared that the diving suit having been hastily and raggedly cut from his legs. Legs on which an attractive woman with strawberry blonde hair, wearing jeans and a sweat soaked t-shirt sat. Well really she was more straddling his thighs, a hacksaw in one hand and a cordless drill in the other. It looked like she was attempting to remove a pair of red metallic underpants.

They both turned and gaped at him in surprise, frozen mid – whatever the hell they were doing. The man recovered first. He flashed a wide grin and said good naturedly,

“Thank god you’re here officer! You have to help me – Potts is trying re-circumcise me with a Dremmel!”

The woman flushed in anger and said harshly through gritted teeth, “Don’t tempt me.”

The man’s grin widened until he took in the stony look on the officer’s face, the drawn weapon and the look of sheer dread on his driver’s face. Silence filled the van. Somewhere in the very great distance a coyote yipped.

“Ummmm, do you have a can opener?”

It took almost 45 excruciating minutes to avoid getting shot, arrested, and in general clearing up the nastiness that the traffic stop had caused. It had actually taken a miracle, or in point of fact, the appearance of a squad of men with no necks in black suits. They descended like the wrath of god, appearing out of the heat shimmering on the highway. It was only their arrival that prevented anyone from going to jail, or being unceremoniously emasculated with a cordless drill. Ce de Vaca had uncuffed the woman first. She was strikingly gorgeous he noted, and had one hell of an iron grip on her temper. She thanked him kindly, exchanged a few words with the suited man in charge, whom was named Coulson, and climbed into the passenger seat of the van without a further glance at the man in the iron underpants.  
The driver Hogan was released next. He gave ce de Vaca a knowing and put upon half smile and headed into the knot of suited men, his own rumpled black suit helping him to blend in. The man in the mangled diving suit, who ce de Vaca was floored to find out was Tony Stark – the Tony Stark – was released last. Agent Coulson and made a personal request that he be left for last. ce de Vaca having worked for long enough in this stretch of desert so near Roswell to gain a healthy respect for unsmiling government men in black, had complied. 

Stark had given him a dazzling Hollywood smile, thanked him like he had just brought him his drinks order and swaggered back to the van and clambered inside. Ce de Vaca was then pulled aside and had a brief, intense, and very frank discussion about the current situation, and it’s possible impact upon his career. The threat was so expertly veiled that ce de Vaca hadn’t noticed it at first. Then it has sunk in and fear sprang up for just a brief second, so cold and clammy he had to suppress a shudder. He had barely managed a nod of understanding. Agent Coulson had then thanked him for his diligence in the performance of his duties to his state, country and planet, shook his hand and headed to the nearest black SUV and climbed inside. 

During this friendly chat, the white van over Coulson’s shoulder had rocked on it’s suspension and emitted the mechanical sounds of power tools, rending metal and a flood of colorful expletives that would be more suited to an auto body shop than a van on a lonely stretch of New Mexican highway on an early Tuesday morning. Stark finally emerged, metal underpants gone, and called for his driver. The white van pulled away and was soon over the horizon. One by one the agents piled into their vehicles and pulled away, leaving Officer ce de Vaca seriously considering a transfer to Albuquerque.

 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tony said trying to fill the heavy silence.

Neither Happy nor Pepper said a word. Tony shifted uneasily from his awkward position on floor of the van. He wedged himself between the front seats and looked from Happy to Pepper with a hopeful smile on his face. After a moment he changed tactics and waggled his eyebrows at Pepper.

“You know Potts,” Tony said, his voice dripping with suggestion and lascivious intent, “you did manage to fulfill a dream of mine. Granted you were clothed, and straddling me with a power tool and saw in hand, but still. Was it good for you too?”

Pepper said nothing for a moment. Then turning her head very slightly towards Happy she said, 

“You know Happy,” he tone was light and conversational, “I hear they have really good breakfast burritos here. We should stop and get some soon.”

“I have heard that too. And as it has been a long time since dinner, I will pull off at the first place I see.”  
They both went back to staring at the emptiness through the windshield.

Tony pouted slightly from his seat on the floor, “Don’t be like that guys. It was only a slight miscalculation on my part, I’ll have the thruster issue worked out as soon as we get back. But you have to admit, it was a pretty impressive display of acceleration.”

Silence was the only reply. A sudden wave of irritation gripped him.

“I am genius you know. And a super hero to boot. How many people get to work for someone who is described in those terms?”

“Those aren’t the terms I would use,” Pepper said mildly.

Tony was surprised to feel a rush of relief. Pepper was finally talking to him again. Tony grinned and in a playful tone asked,

“Yeah? And what terms would you use? And remember, I am highly susceptible to flattery. It will get you everywhere.”

Pepper leaned her head back against the headrest and shut her eyes against the morning glare. Exhaustion made her feel almost drunk, and very cranky. 

“Capable, but ridiculous.”


End file.
